The Creation of a Monster: Orochimaru's Experiment
A cold, empty plucking noise echoed calmly but irritatingly through the damp atmosphere of the lair. The air was clear, the stone brick hallways singing their deep groaning song, and the specimen was ready. Drip, drip, drip. He must have left the tap in the cleansing chamber halfway on. A bitter sigh seeped from the tight lips of Orochimaru's peeling, poor excuse for a face. It would have to wait. Besides, there was much to be done. He slowly licked his top lip, letting his excitement dribble through his veins, as he pulled out a rusty scalpel. His saliva was bubbling. It had been a long time since he had cut open a body so fresh. But he had to hold his grim ecstasy. He needed to focus. Before him, on a dimly lit stretcher, lay a small heap of fresh bodies, and their skin was still lukewarm, smooth enough to be used. He liked to think of the flesh as his paint, waiting to become a masterpiece. And they would, in time. He gently pulled a cotton towel from a stone shelf beside him, careful not to disturb the various books and pots he had stored on the wall. Swiping the rust from the towel, Orochimaru reached down to the closest body, a young woman, and slipped the scalpel into her shoulder. It was adrenaline for him, piercing fresh flesh. He made several clean slits in the same area, ignoring the defrosted blood that silently oozed its way out of the incisions. When he finally finished placing the slits, a wild mess that spread across her upper half, he hastily joined the "dots" with the knife until a sprawling shape was visible on the surface. With recently disinfected hands, he pinched the corner of the shape, and lifted it, until a large blanket of skin was in his hands. He struggled not to smile at the sight of exposed organs. Carefully laying the sheet of flesh on a table, Orochimaru proceeded to do the same to all 5 of the bodies. Drip, drip, drip. Approximately 12 minutes later, he was drooling at a towering pile of deliciously cut skin, before transferring them to a wheeled trolley. Enclosing his bony fingers over the handle, he pushed the cart through a dark silver mass of tunnels and pathways. His eye caught sight of a shadow. He watched the corner it came from, and a young man walked past, holding an almost melted candle in his right hand. Kabuto. Orochimaru continued on his way, until he came across his favourite surgical room, (The only one without a faulty light). After a few preparations, he had constructed a hollow, wire model of a man, his template for the skin placement. For his monster. First, he needed to create the internal part of his human. It needed bones and organs, which he had previously had gathered from anonymous resources. Kabuto should be returning to him soon with synthetic veins. He began the creation process. He placed layer after layer of skin inside the shell, cutting holes for the organs, until the mesh was filled with flesh and muscle. He careful lifted the first organ from it's personal cooler. The stomach. It slot in tightly, but fit nevertheless. Then came the intestines, the bowels, the lungs, the liver, the oesophagus, until all he had left was the heart. This heart was one of the freshest he had in stock, and he decided it the week before from a collection of 617. He cautiously slid it into place. With seldom haste, he dragged a surgical scooper, originally meant for adenoid removal, through the half complete body, creating precise slots for the synthetic veins. A plate was laid in the doorway behind him, with a loud clank, and Kabuto left without a word. Just in time. Orochimaru made his way toward the platter, peering over curiously. A tangled heap of hollow white cords were placed upon the metal. Tailor made to fit the body's needs. Drip, drip, drip. A moment later he was back at the body, examining and judging the placement of the man made veins. It seemed sufficient enough. From under the table he slid out an icy bucket, containing a severed head. In fact, he had been the one to "collect" it. He wore a demonic smile, unafraid of showing his grim passion to the enclosing steel walls that made up the chamber. The head was natural, and so were the veins, so all he had to do was connect the body with it. And that was exactly what Orochimaru did. In under a quarter of an hour, ahead of him was a propped up, bald and lifeless body with an empty socket where it's eyes should be. Soon that would be fixed. Next to the body was a plate with a usual eyeball, in a healthy and useable state. It was currently bobbing in a cooled liquid capsule, which he greedily opened, and squeezed the round organ into the right socket, and that was when a name came to mind. Sayomi. Night born. Pure evil. It was perfect. Pleased with himself, he walked fast paced through a narrow corridor, taking his first left, then the second left also. His organ chamber. He strolled through rows of hundreds of freshly kept bodily parts and liquids, and reached his bony arm to the Byakugan shelf. What better of a way to make a unique and powerful ninja? Byakugans were highly underrated by his fellow scientists, and their power deserved to be shown. Back at the surgical chamber, Orochimaru plopped the Byakugan into the remaining socket, and ecstatically plugged various cables into specific points on Sayomi's body, to monitor his condition in the final steps. From behind him he wheeled a metal stand with a large plastic sack, filled to the brim with B type blood. Exactly 5.3 litres of the stuff. He attached a clear tube that ended with a syringe into the bag, and then pointed the syringe into the underside of Sayomi's arm. He pressed a few keys on the monitor and the blood was being pumped into the veins at a painstakingly slow pace. He spent this time injecting the required fluids into his neck for his brain to run normally, when the computer beeped urgently. There was a slight brain malfunction. At this rate, he would have to ignore it. Besides it was only minor. The constant slurping noise of the blood injecting machine slowed to a sudden stop, and he turned abruptly towards the body, searching for some kind of life. Soon.. An eye rolled. It blinked, and a churning groan was breathed out from his mouth. His beautiful functional mouth! According to the green statistics on the screen, Sayomi was in a somewhat subconscious state, unaware of it's surroundings. His system was simply testing out every function, and checking for any malfunctions. Calming himself, Orochimaru injected some of Akira Hiroshima's sound chakra into his own body, and then transferred it into Sayomi. If his calculations were correct, this should allow Sayomi to awaken his own Sonic Technique. For now, Orochimaru would leave him in peace. And when Sayomi comes to it's senses, he would raise him as a maniac who would kill without hesitating. He could be a very valuable ally. But for now Orochimaru left the body to reorganise itself. The chambers were silent. This was the beginning of something new. Drip, drip, drip.